Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 161 - Chapitre 170

Before I could say a word, his fingers slipped between my thighs again—two of them sliding in easily, slick from everything we’d just shared. I gasped, arching up, my hips chasing the rhythm he hadn’t even set yet. He moved them slowly, curling just right, thumb brushing over my clit in soft, maddening circles. “Now,” he whispered, tongue flicking the shell of my ear, “I want to hear something from you.” His fingers worked deeper, faster, each stroke making my thighs shake. “What…” I breathed, barely able to think. “What do you want to hear?” He bit my earlobe gently, fingers thrusting harder, slick sounds filling the room like music only we could hear. “What do you call me,” he growled, “when I’m fucking you like this? When I’m rough… when I’m claiming what’s mine?” My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears. My skin was burning, my legs trembling. “Say it,” he coaxed, thumb pressing hard on my clit now, fingers curling perfectly. “Say it, baby. What do you call me w

We stayed tangled beneath the sheets, our bodies still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, hearts beating in a rhythm only we could hear. My limbs were limp, my skin slick with sweat, but I’d never felt more alive. More wanted. More his. Finally, I let out a small laugh, breathless and dazed. “If we don’t eat something soon, I might pass out.” He smirked, brushing his fingers gently across my cheek. “You didn’t seem to be complaining a minute ago.” “I wasn’t,” I grinned, stretching lazily. “But I do need to refuel.” He chuckled and pulled away from me—reluctantly—and reached for the tray. “Then let’s get some food in you. Can’t have my girl fainting on me.” My girl. Why did those two simple words make my chest ache in the best way? We sat up in bed, the sheets still wrapped loosely around my waist as he fed me a piece of buttery croissant, his thumb brushing the corner of my lips to wipe away a crumb. “You’re staring again,” I teased, popping a strawberry into his mouth

I was singing in the damn shower. Actually singing. Out loud. Not just humming under my breath like I usually did when I was relaxed or plotting something. No—this morning, I was belting out lyrics like some hopeless fool in a musical. My voice bounced off the marble walls, my hand slick with shampoo as I scrubbed it through my hair and tried not to grin like a madman. Emily. God help me, I was thinking about her again. Her lips. The way they had moved against mine last night—soft, hesitant, then hungry, like she’d been holding back for far too long. It was still burned into my mind, and no amount of cold water could wash it away. I’d kissed her. She’d kissed me back. And then she asked me for time. Time. That word was both a lifeline and a noose. But I’d take it. Gladly. Because the way she’d looked at me… she hadn’t run. She hadn’t pushed me away. That was more than I expected, and more than I probably deserved. "Give me time," she’d whispered. And I had nodded, promising

“It was—”“Who?!” I roared, the word exploding from my chest like a gunshot. The barrel of the Glock pressed hard against his forehead now, sweat slicking his skin.He shook violently, snot and tears dripping down his face as he screamed, “It was a woman!”The air left my lungs in a cold, sharp rush. “What woman?”“I—I don’t know—please, I don’t know!”I shoved the gun harder against his skull. “What the hell do you mean you don’t know?!”“She—she had her face covered,” he stammered. “I never saw her! I swear to God, I never saw her!”I grabbed his collar and hauled him off the ground so fast he nearly choked. “You’re lying!”“I’m not—I swear—I swear on my mother’s grave!” he cried, clutching at my wrists. “She didn’t show her face! She wore a hood—tinted windows—I just met her in the alley behind the old gas station on Route 9! She handed me an envelope and told me what to do!”His eyes were wild now, darting around like a trapped animal. “That’s all! I don’t know who she is—please,

My breath caught.Mr De Vito.The name alone felt like a jolt of ice water poured down my spine.No one else would know what that name meant to me. No one would know that behind the clean, crisp formality was the man who had spent the night memorizing the slope of my back with his mouth. The man who kissed me this morning like I was the only thing tethering him to the earth. The man who owned me in every way, even if no one else could ever know.Except now… Alessandro was right here. Right next to me.And Lorenzo—Mr De Vito—was calling.Shit. Shit. Shit.Alessandro leaned back slightly, one brow lifted. “You’re vibrating.”“I—what?” I blinked, flustered.“Your phone,” he said with a small grin. “It’s ringing.”“Right. Yeah.” I forced a breath, steadying my hand as I accepted the call and raised the phone to my ear. My voice came out smoother than I felt.“Hello, sir.”There was a beat of silence on the other end. Cold. Sharp.Then his voice came, low and dangerous. “Hello, sir?”My st